Resurrection
by kisaragimemory
Summary: "Nice?" "Yeah, Art?" "Thank you for saving me. I feel as though I can see everything differently now." "Oh, yeah?" "Yes, I feel...resurrected." Nice's first instinct was to save the lonely stranger standing on the train tracks. He was only trying to save someone who needed help, but he had no idea just how much help this stranger needed.
1. Prologue: nice to meet you

**Resurrection Prologue: nice to meet you**

* * *

Nice wasn't sugar-coating it when he said his day wasn't going well. Even though his grades had yet to be beaten by anyone else in Facultas High, he couldn't help but feel as though there was something missing from his life. Other people seemed to constantly be smiling and laughing, but Nice felt as though he had bigger things to worry about. Things bigger than –

"-oi, Nice. Aren't her boobs so big?" Nice rolled his eyes and bit down sharply on the end of his pen. Bigger things, than, well, that. Nice's friend Birthday pursued women like an Olympic sport, and since he worked harder on wooing girls than passing classes, maybe to him it was a gold-medal worthy effort.

Birthday sat balanced precariously on the edge of his stool, kicking his flip-flopped feet outwards to hit their science table. His orange-ish blond hair was gelled stylishly up in spikes, while his retro dark blue sunglasses perched on the delicate bridge of his nose, close to slipping off.

Nice sighed. "No, Birthday, her boobs aren't that big. But hey, that's beside the point! We were meant to be conducting that hydrochloric acid experiment…thing. Could you please focus?"

Birthday chuckled. "Sorry, sorry! But wait, you're right…check out that cute thing over there!" He pointed to a far corner of their stuffy science classroom, his finger waggling in the air. Nice turned around for a quick glance, expecting some busty young girl with her cleavage popping out, but was surprised when he made eye contact with another boy. The boy was wearing a long white lab coat with a dark blazer, shirt and tie underneath. He wore an eyepatch, which created a nice contrast against his pale skin, and his dark blue hair glinted under the intensity of the light.

"Isn't he gorgeous?" Birthday sighed, watching as the boy broke eye contact and hastily scribbled down some notes on a clipboard. "Damn. He makes me want to get all freaky like."

Nice punched his friend lightly on the arm and snickered, "Alright, Romeo. Tone down the romance. More chemistry."

Birthday fluttered his eyelashes comically. "Clipboard boy and I have chemistry."

"Birthday!"

"When he looked at me, I felt electricity fly through the air…"

"He was looking at me!"

"Who gives a fuck?"

Nice laughed. He did focus more on his studies than anyone else, sure – but he just wanted to know what it was like to be Birthday. Birthday always seemed to be happy, flirtatious and lucky – and Nice just longed to wake up one morning and feel the same way.

"I have my electric guitar lessons after school," Birthday groaned, bringing his head to rest on Nice's shoulder.

"So?" Nice poured hydrochloric acid into a beaker.

"So, I won't be able to make that delivery to that girl, Koneko. I need to drop off the file for our presentation in Modern World History, and it's due tomorrow."

Nice hummed in response, and Birthday took it as a sign to continue. "I need you to do it for me."

Nice flashed his friend a blindingly white grin. "Let me think. No."

Birthday winced. "You're cruel."

"So are you. You can't expect me to give up my study time just to deliver a file to some girl I don't even know."

"I will reward you handsomely."

"You barely have enough money for the bus fare home."

"Yeah, but I have, like, tons of lint in my pocket if you want. And a raw egg."

"A raw egg?" Nice began to choke, but stopped himself quickly as tears sprang to his eyes. "Why the hell do you have a raw egg? Think about the bacteria on that thing!"

Birthday shook his head stubbornly, reached into his pocket, and began to take the egg out. Nice heard a loud crunch and gave his friend the filthiest look he could muster.

Birthday laughed and smiled sheepishly, holding up a hand sticky with yellow yolk. "Whoops."

Nice threw a stack of paper towels at him.

* * *

**Thank you so much for reading the prologue to my new fanfic, Resurrection! I know that the title may seem a little weird for this chapter, but I just wanted to introduce you to the way that Nice thinks in my fanfiction, and also I wanted to shed some light on his school life.  
**

**Pairings I will have will be: NicexArt, and BirthdayxRatio. I will have the first chapter up soon, just so you know! **

**xo showsomespirit**


	2. 1: chance encounter

**Chapter One:**** chance encounter**

* * *

If you ask anyone else, they will tell you that Nice is a wonderful boy, if a little reserved. He was polite and helpful, and a true genius at that, which was why he decided to deliver the file to the girl named Koneko.

Nice walked slowly through the halls of his school, admiring the way it was so quiet after all of the students had gone. Whilst he liked school, he hated the noise and disasters that seemed to accompany the word. Paintings created by gifted students hung on the walls in silver frames. Photographs of Facultas' nationally recognised swim club rested inside a trophy cabinet alongside gold medals.

The file was safe inside Nice's bag, and the boy whistled as he made his way out the school building, the guiding breeze flicking at Nice's neon jacket. The sun was just setting, painting the roofs of the houses with a rosy gleam, and the pavement was pristine, the new leaf buds blooming on the trees.

According to Birthday, Koneko lived around ten streets or so away, past a railway crossing. This railway crossing was the main feature of Nice's nightmares as a child. Children loved to talk about the creepy shadows that hung around there after sunset, the shadows of children who had died in the past, and Nice had never admitted that he was creeped out.

* * *

Nice walked up to the railway crossing searching for the shadows. When he found none, he breathed a sigh of relief. And just as he was about to walk away and head for Koneko's house, he saw a shadow standing on the train tracks, behind the yellow protective barrier.

The person's frame was quite lithe and slender, and they had their arms spread wide as they faced the train tunnel, as though they were waiting for the crushing embrace of a train.

And then Nice understood.

"Oh my God! Hey! What the heck do you think you're doing?" He yelled. Nice began to run forward, ditching his bag as he ran, feeling the harsh whip of the wind against his skin. As he got closer, Nice noted that the man wore a slim-fit dark suit with a pretty purple sheen to the fabric. A pinkish-purple tinted tie was around his neck, and the man had his head flung back, looking at the sky.

"Hey, asshole! You there!" Nice shouted, but he stopped as soon as he saw a white glint moving towards them. The train. Nice wanted to shoot himself. He should have known that the North Central train came through at every twenty minute interval!

He had to save this person, and quick.

Vaulting himself over the train barrier, Nice brought his legs out and kicked the other man sharply in the side, causing him to hit the right side of the barrier and fall over it with a cry. Nice smiled, glad that he had done a good deed, and then paled immediately as the train barrelled towards him. He began to recite a prayer as the wind fanned his cheeks, his heart beating wildly-

-and then a hand closed around his wrist and tugged him under the barrier, rolling him onto the ground and safely away from the train. The sounds of wheels pounding metal and sparks screeching filled Nice's ears, and the burning smell of wires filled the air as Nice shut his tired eyes and lay there, his shirt sticking damply to his back as the sounds of the train faded into the distance.

"I…I…I'm so sorry," a quiet, trembling voice began. "I didn't know you would…" Mournful sobbing ricocheted off of Nice's eardrums as he sat up and laid eyes on a slouched figure, hunched over with their hands covering their face.

"No, it's alright. I'm just glad that you look okay." Nice groaned, propping himself up with an elbow. "What the hell were you thinking, though? Trying to kill yourself? That isn't the fucking way, asshole. You cope with your shit, you don't just give up!"

"No." The person mumbled, turning away from Nice to look at the nearly-vanished sun. "I just wanted to feel death."

"'Feel death'?" Nice echoed. "What do you mean?"

The person turned around and Nice's breath caught in his throat.

He had almond-shaped iridescent purple eyes which glittered with tears, and his skin was perfect, pale and unblemished, looking as soft and as delicate as flower petals. His short, effeminate lilac razor cut hair brushed against his neck every time he moved his head, and Nice was enchanted. This boy was perfect.

"I just…I'm so sorry," the person sobbed, tears running tracks down his cheeks. "I didn't want you to come and save me and get hurt. I just wanted to die!"

"Bullshit!" Nice yelled, scrambling to his feet and dusting himself off. "It's a blessing to even be alive; of course you don't want to die! _Yeah_, life is hard, but there are tons of good things to look for, even amongst the crap!"

Nice was now standing over the good-looking boy, who had reached the hiccupping stage of crying. He extended a hand towards the boy and felt a small, doll-like hand with slim and long fingers wrap around his own. Nice yanked him up.

"Don't ever do anything like this ever again." Nice scolded him, watching as the guy brushed dirt off of his fancy suit. "I won't always be around to pull you off of train tracks."

The boy laughed lightly, his smile twisted with pain. He smiled awkwardly, showing a little too much of his pristine white teeth. "Sure," he smiled weakly. "Uh…I'm…I'm Art. Thank you for saving me back there, but I didn't need saving. I am sure of that."

Uncertainly, Nice muttered, "Yeah. Okay. Anyway, I'm Nice."

Art just nodded. "Yes, you are nice for saving me."

Nice shook his head. "No, I _am_ Nice."

Art's eyes widened innocently. "Yes, I know," he insisted. "You are a very _nice_ person."

Nice's eyes narrowed. "Okay, now you must be joking, you hilarious fuck."

"What? Joking about what? I'm just complimenting you!"

Nice grimaced. "No, you idiot. My name is Nice. _**N-I-C-E**_. That's my name."

"Oh!" Art didn't look too surprised. He brought up one of his arms and wiped his face hurriedly on his sleeve, ridding his beautiful skin of tear stains. The sun was long gone, and the painstakingly fragile yet haunting glow of nightfall was shrouding Art, making the flyaway strands of his hair appear a pretty, snow-like white.

Nice nodded, awkwardly. "So…this is a little much for my Friday afternoon," he joked. "I don't really know what I'm meant to do after this, so how about I take you home or something? It just feels weird for me to leave you here, after all this."

Art smiled serenely. "Thank you, Nice. If you don't mind, actually…I don't live here. Anywhere near here. So it will be fine if you just leave me."

"I don't want to do that!" Nice argued. "I can't let you go wherever by yourself! That isn't safe!"

Nice pursed his lips angrily. He had just saved this boy from a certain death, and now the damsel in distress just wanted to part ways and never meet again? He had to at least make sure that Art was going to be okay for the night.

"Okay, so what train did you take to get here?"

"Oh. I don't know. I just got on any train and got off anywhere."

"Where do you live?"

"Huntersfree." Art confessed.

Nice nodded decisively. "Alright. Good. I know what train we have to take to end up back in Huntersfree. I'll take you back home."

Nice pivoted and began the stride back towards the left side of the barrier to collect his bag when a hand clamped down on his bicep and squeezed tightly. Startled, Nice looked to his right to see Art, hanging on for dear life.

Hot, fat, painful tears cursed Art's fairytale face, his eyes filled with torment and despair. "No! No! Please don't take me back home!" he sobbed, his tears running down his cheek, along his defined jaw and down his slender neck. "You can't take me back there, Nice! Don't!"

Disconcerted, Nice grabbed Art's shoulders and shook them frantically, trying to stop the boy's loud crying. "Whoa. Whoa. Cut it out, Art! Pull yourself together! I know that you've probably been through a lot and that you must be tired, but now isn't the time to lose it! I'll take you to get some coffee, okay? How about that? We can be up all night if we have to. Just tell me about you."

"W-w-what about your parents?" Art sobbed, knuckling the tears away from his eyes furiously.

Nice let out a short bark of laughter. "They won't care," he assured him. "Don't worry."

Pure relief cleansed the pain from Art's fine features, and he smiled a sweet, adorable smile. Nice found himself wrapping his arms around Art's small frame, a hand running through his soft lilac hair to calm him. Art's hands were splayed out on Nice's chest as he exhaled evenly.

"Thank you, Nice." He murmured, his fingertips digging into the other boy's chest lightly. "Thank you."

From that moment on, Nice knew that something had changed – he was needed, not just to supply the answers in a test, but needed – because only he could save the lost cause that was Art.

* * *

**Hey, there!**

**Thanks for reading the first chapter of Resurrection! I really hope you liked this chapter, because I really don't know what to think about it. I know Art may not seem his usual cool self but this is how I wanted him to be in my fanfic. You got a little more insight into how Nice thinks about life, and I hope you liked Art's introduction! Next chapter you will have the coffee shop, and that's where you'll learn more about Art and Nice!**

**And who knows, maybe Birthday and Ratio will make a surprise appearance...**

**xo Ferrezia**

**P.S: I am a huge fan of Free!, so I had to include the little detail about the swim club thing. I don't know. I'm not sorry. SEASON 2 OHMYGOD I LITERALLY CANNOT WAIT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND LIKE OHMYGOD FREE AND NAGISA IN THE SEASON 2 PROMO POSTER LIKE THOSE CHEEKBONES WHAT  
**


	3. 2: an old haunt

**Chapter Two:**** an old haunt**

* * *

Nice tugged Art through the streets, the other boy falling sleepily onto his shoulder with every step. Art was just short enough to have his head fit perfectly under Nice's jaw, so whenever he slumped forward, Art's hair tickled his neck, sending little shivers down his spine until every fibre of his being was wide awake.

Nice knew where he was taking Art. Everyone dreams of finding their own little coffee shop, with friendly staff and an even friendlier clientele. The store would have mismatched chairs, chipped plates, and armchairs with stuffing protruding from the seats, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee would hang in the air and seep into your clothes, so that you could smell the scent even after you had left. Nice had found Murasaki's Deli last year, and since then, it had become his sanctuary. He and Birthday hung out there often, and thought of it as a second home.

"Art. We're here." Nice shook his new friend lightly, trying to jolt some alertness into the slim, tired figure. Art yawned like a cat, and stretched his arms above his head. "Oh. Good," he beamed, his smile as dull and as muted as a car horn through the fog. "Can we go inside?" Art queried, his eyes falling on the 'CLOSED' sign on the glass window.

"No duh." Nice smirked, as he knocked loudly on the front door. "Murasaki always lets me in."

The two stood back and surveyed the building, waiting for some signs of movement. When the darkness of the store appeared unmoving, Nice sighed and hollered, "Hey! Four-eyes!"

A loud groan sounded from up above, and a voice responded, "Call me that again and I will drop the heaviest book I have onto your head."

Looking up, Art saw a man leaning out of one of the windows above the shop. In the darkness, Art admittedly couldn't see much, but Nice's face broke out into a grin as he called out, "Four-eyes, there you are! Let me in, would you? I have an important meeting with a new friend of mine!"

The man brought a hand up sleepily and dragged it across his face. "It's Murasaki," he complained. "You had better start to call me that, or else I'll never serve you ever again." But the person disappeared from the window and a light switched on.

Art just looked at Nice expectantly, his eyes wide and alluring. "Are you two friends?" he asked.

Nice nodded a little. "Murasaki's a good friend of mine. I met him when I found this café."

"How old is he?"

"Twenty-three."

"Oh."

"Are you lovebirds going to talk about me forever? I understand that I'm worthy of jealousy, but please."

Murasaki stood in the doorway of the deli, a hand over his mouth as he stifled a yawn. He was a tall and slim man, but still obviously well-built. He had purple hair, like Art, but where Art's hair was light and angelic, Murasaki's was harsh and darker. He was dressed in pyjamas – a dark blue shirt patterned with white clouds and matching trousers.

Nice burst out laughing. "I never get tired of seeing your jammies, Saki."

Murasaki scoffed. "Please. You're just jealous of how comfortable they are."

Art watched as the two went about their easy everyday banter, and couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy himself. As much as his parents tried to get him to talk to other children and make new friends, he couldn't do it. He couldn't handle pointless conversations and sometimes broke down in tears before he'd even got a word out, which was why he was so shocked that he trusted this stranger wholeheartedly.

"-come on." Nice's hand clamped down on Art's shoulder, eliciting a small squeak from the boy. Murasaki led the two into the deli, with the blinds pulled down low to block out the dim light of the moon. The tables and chairs were all over the place, crooked and familiar, and the smell of coffee surrounded Art, making him wince. He'd always been more of a tea person.

"Just sit anywhere. Nice, you know the drill. I'll bring you guys coffee anytime you want it, but there's ice coffee in the fridge if you want to save me the trouble."

"The ice coffee is fine," Nice replied. "We'll make ourselves at home. Why are you in your jammies already, though?"

Murasaki looked at him blankly.

Nice stared back blankly.

Art alternated between staring at both Nice and Murasaki.

"You really are an idiot." Murasaki sighed finally, breaking the ice. "It's almost midnight."

Art looked apologetically at Murasaki. "Sorry," he whispered. "I don't mean to bother you this late."

Murasaki's eyes widened as he shook his head, smiling a little. "No, it's fine. Nice interrupted me, not you. You're always welcome here. What's your name, by the way?"

"Art." The younger boy responded shyly, anxiously touching his hair with a hand.

"Nice name. Unique."

"T-t-thanks…"

Nice, who had been watching the exchange between the two, suddenly blurted out, "Alright, Saki. I think the lack of sleep has finally gotten to you. You're delirious. Now, go to sleep. Bye. Adios."

Murasaki frowned at him, but bid the two goodnight and went upstairs to sleep. Nice went to the kitchens and fetched a pitcher of ice coffee and two glasses for them both from Murasaki's poky little kitchen.

Yet another reason why Nice preferred Murasaki's cosy little shop was because it had the feel of a comfortable, easy home life, unlike Nice's actual home. Murasaki had a tiled black and white kitchen floor, which was perfect to play hopscotch on. He had a bright yellow fridge and the cupboards and cabinets were cherry and mahogany, lining the walls. Jars of spices sat on shelves alongside cookbooks and grocery lists, and old certificates and letters were stuck to the fridge door with magnets. The granite countertops were spotless, chopping boards stacked one on top of each other at one end, while the counters spanned the length of the room.

Nice joined Art again in the main seating area of the deli. Art was anxiously tapping his feet on the floor, floundering uselessly in the dark. Nice switched on the light, cocooning the two in a soft glow. The darkness from outside threatened to harm the glow through the slits of the blinds, but the interior of the building stayed bright.

A cup of iced coffee was poured for Art, who took it gratefully and murmured a thank you before choking down a large gulp. Nice smiled sadly.

"What's your name? And tell me honestly."

"Art."

"Come on, that isn't your real name. What is Art short for?"

"That's all I am," Art insisted blankly. "It's all I've ever been. Art Fidelis."

"That's your name?" Nice took a sip of his drink.

Art nodded quickly. "That's what my parents call me," he said. "I write it on my exam papers, in my journals, all over my desk, and my hands. That's all I am."

Nice smiled thoughtfully. _Fidelis_, he thought. _That's Latin for 'faithful', or 'loyal', isn't it?_

"Who do you live with?"

"My parents."

"Why are you here, in Yokohama? Why aren't you at home?"

Art began to fiddle with his gorgeous hair. "Well…uh…well…I don't like it there."

"And why don't you like it there?"

Art bit his lip, worrying with the skin a little. Nice smiled understandingly and brought a hand across the table and laid it on Art's free hand, which was on the table.

"You don't have to tell me," he whispered to him. "I'd like it if you _did_, but if you don't feel comfortable…"

Tears rolled down Art's cheeks, marking the skin in a relentless cycle of thrashing, wild emotions. Redness surrounded his magical eyes, making the purple irises pop endearingly.

"I don't really have one," Art mumbled after a while. The first tear ventured out of his eye, kissing his fair cheek. "My parents are nice to guests and other people, but I'm just irregular. I defy reason, my mother says. I'm not fit to live if I'm as insignificant and dull as she says I am."

"Why would your mother say that, Art?"

Art swallowed, and Nice took it as a hint to pour the guy a glass of iced coffee. Once it was filled, he pushed it towards Art, who hurriedly gulped it down. "She says I'm a waste of space," he gasped. "She told me I'm a killer."

Nice's eyes narrowed as he got himself a glass of iced coffee, too. Swiping his finger around the condensation on the sides, he whispered softly, "Who _did_ you kill, Art?"

Art's head, which was hung, began to shake a little. Nice just looked at him. Eventually, Art's shoulders began to shake, accompanied by chuckle. When the boy looked up again, his cheeks were covered in fresh tears as intricate and winding as train tracks, the stories of those tears bound to lead somewhere. A smirk, thin and twisted, was the perfect final touch to a tragic masterpiece.

"I killed my brother."

* * *

**Hey, there!  
**

**I hope you liked this chapter, everyone! Thank you so much for reading. I know I haven't updated in so long, but if you'll forgive me, I was kind of distracted. What can I say, I like the internet. The SNK OVA 2 came out as well, but it's in raw, so I can't understand it, but other than that, Jean Kirschtein! Do any of you watch Attack on Titan? If you do, who's your favourite character? Because mine is Jean. I just adore him, and I ship him with Eren. If I ever do write an SNK fanfiction, it would be erejean, because that's my otp. **

**Fairy Tail! Who's in the fandom here? My favourite character is Jellal, because he's freaking awesome and rather cute and I like him very much because he can rock blue hair and ohmygod how did he make the transition from a total baddie to come cutie distraught due to guilt I just literally cannot because Jellal Fernandes I applaud you for being so perfect and adorable that eye tattoo thing whut  
**

**Alright, what else...do any of you happen to like Hetalia? I was going to write a Hetalia fanfiction, and I actually have three or four of the chapters already, but I'm not sure about it...**

**OTHER THAN THAT, PLEASE TELL ME IF THIS CHAPTER WAS OKAY!**

**Ferrezia**


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